" "That's right, Captain," cried Blueskin. "What's that?—Jack's voice!" "It is," replied her son. Though encumbered by his irons, his step was firm, and his demeanour dignified. Straitened circumstances would not have mattered; a mother would have managed somehow. He shut his eyes and groped for the wall to steady himself, wondering if this bit of mummery would get over. Danger, in the form he apprehended, was lurking outside: nor was he destined to enjoy long repose.
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